


But Just For Tonight

by vaguesalvation



Category: the GazettE
Genre: M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguesalvation/pseuds/vaguesalvation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruki likes to watch Aoi smoke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Just For Tonight

Aoi fucks like he smokes his cigarettes, slow and measured, as if savoring the taste like it’s the last time he’ll ever experience it. Ruki likes to watch Aoi smoke, likes to see every pull of nicotine into the guitarist’s lungs, irritation curbed by poisonous chemicals and satisfaction sought. Aoi’s lips curl around the filter of his cigarette much the same way they wrap around Ruki’s cock, on the nights when Ruki is a bundle of agitation and Aoi pulls him down on the bed in their shared hotel room. Ruki goes willingly every time, has no qualms about letting the older man calm him down. And every time he’s left feeling as drained of substance, of life, as the cigarettes that lie in the ashtray on the nightstand. He thinks maybe this should bother him, maybe they should stop, but he’s usually too busy gripping long, dark hair and keeping himself from fucking the warm mouth too hard to really consider it any further.

He doesn’t know who is in control. It dangles in front of him some nights, in the form of red, swollen lips and challenging eyes. Sometimes, he makes a grab for it, challenges right back. But Aoi is stronger than he is and he usually ends up on his back anyway. He likes it that way though, likes trapping the guitarist between his legs, holding the other man close, impossibly close. Everything with them seems impossible until it happens, until Aoi is sliding into him and breathing unconventional endearments in his ears.

He clings tight and hopes the walls are thick enough that no one hears him answering back with vehement cries of the older man’s name.

 

\--

 

It’s a cycle they’ve created without really realizing. Show, smoke, fuck, smoke, sleep, smoke, and repeat. Some nights it’s rough. He bites at Aoi’s neck as the guitarist rips into his back with sharp fingernails. He gets off on the mixture of the pain of tearing flesh and the taste of blood on his tongue. It’s disturbingly violent and he’s left itching and wanting.

But sometimes, sometimes it’s gentler, almost sympathetic. If they had any sympathy left for each other. It’s these nights that quiet his nerves the most, that leave him sated and still. It’s these nights he doesn’t move to the other bed, the nights he stays sprawled on his back and watches the smoke from Aoi’s cigarette make pretty fogged patterns above his head. He’s sticky with sweat and come but he doesn’t care.

These are the nights when Aoi’s fingers will stay threaded through his hair, stroking just behind his ear until he falls into a deeper sleep than he could ever hope to achieve on his own.

 

\--

 

“I’m not in love with you.”

He doesn’t know what makes him say it, but the words are out of his mouth before he can rein them in. They’re whispered, probably barely audible over the static of the television.

The hotel is cheap and reminds him of the times when they could barely afford the trailer to haul their equipment from live house to live house. It’s humbling, lying here on a mattress that’s a little less than comfortable and fighting with the antenna on the TV to get a decent reception. Humbling, and a little like they’ve taken two steps backward.

Aoi’s response to his statement comes too late, just a shift of his eyes over to where Ruki is lying beside him. Their gazes lock just long enough to share an unspoken agreement.

Then the guitarist is flipping over to straddle his waist, the cherry of the cigarette just above his lips. He stares up at Aoi for a moment, unsurprised by the forward action. There’s a smirk on the older man’s lips, still curled around the end of his cigarette. Neither say anything, it’s all communication through narrowed eyes and the press of Aoi’s cock against his stomach.

He gasps when Aoi’s hands wrap around his wrists, pushing his arms up above his head. The guitarist’s weight shifts a little until he spreads his legs, welcoming the older man between them. Both his wrists are moved to one of Aoi’s hands, the guitarist’s fingers stretching over the joints to keep them together.

He moans when Aoi rolls his hips forward, taking the cigarette between the fingers of his free hand and flicking the ashes into the glass ashtray on the nightstand. Then the guitarist takes a long drag, and it’s a beautiful sight this close up.

He opens his mouth when Aoi leans forward, feeling and tasting the smoke the guitarist breathes into him. Their lips barely brush, but it feels more intimate than anything they’ve shared before. His eyes squeeze shut when Aoi rocks their hips together again.

The guitarist pulls back just long enough to watch the smoke float out of his mouth and into the air before leaning forward again. This kiss is hard, demanding, and he gives in willingly. There’s a hand at his belt buckle, and then the button and zipper of his jeans.

Aoi fucks him hard that night, and he shakes his way through his release to images of smoke and lips.

 

\--

 

He’s more adamant when he says the words again and he doesn’t know anymore who he’s trying to convince. Aoi just laughs into the junction of his hip and continues sucking a pretty purple bruise into his skin. There’s a cigarette in the guitarist’s hand, and anymore it doesn’t matter what they’re doing, there’s always a cigarette, always the smoke clouding his vision.

His fingers tangle in dark hair and he gasps when Aoi’s teeth sink into his hip. He doesn’t know if he wants to pull the guitarist closer or push him away so he just holds. When the guitarist pulls away, he places soft, soothing kisses to the spot before flicking his eyes up to meet Ruki’s.

Ruki’s stomach flips and he reaches up to grip the vertical rails of the headboard as Aoi swallows him down.

 

\--

 

Waking up is a violent, painful event usually.

But that morning his eyes open slowly, and he feels rested for the first time in what must be years. There are fingers in his hair, rubbing lightly at the back of his neck and his head is resting against a strong chest.

He breathes in the scent of cologne and cigarettes and cheap hotel air freshener. He knows instantly where he is, maybe not the city or the prefecture, but he knows his heart is beating against his chest pressed close to the other man’s side, he knows the heart beating against his ear.

He looks up and their eyes meet. He wants to push away, wants to get dressed and go for a walk. He needs to think, needs to revaluate.

But he just watches patiently as Aoi exhales smoke into the air above their heads and waits for it all to start again.


End file.
